Norwegian by Night by Derek B. Miller Page A

deed is done, and walks off. God, being God, gets angry with Onan. The lesson we all derive from our Judaeo-Christian clerics is that masturbation is abhorred by God, and we’re to keep our hands off our willies. But my question is this. Where did Onan get the idea that instructions from God could possibly be immoral? That there was a morality, a code, that came from a place deeper in the human soul — from our uniqueness and our mortality — that already knew right from wrong with such clarity that it could deny the most powerful authority and navigate its own course?
    â€˜And so the real question becomes, why couldn’t I instill some of that in my own son so he could have had the courage to stand up to me, deny me my own failings, and refuse to go to a futile war that killed him? So he could have outlived me. Why couldn’t I have given more of that … whatever that is … to my son?’
    Then Sheldon looks at Paul, who is staring at the screen.
    â€˜Now come here, and let’s get your wellingtons off.’

Chapter 6
    Rhea and Lars left the police station and then rode around the city for hours, looking for Sheldon. Their search was random at first. They rode through neighbourhoods close to the centre, and up and down the most popular roads. Karl Johan’s Gate. Kristian IV’s Gate. Wergelandsveien by the new Literature House. Up Hegdehaugsveien onto Bogstadveien, and then all around Majorstuen. Back to Frogner Park, down into Frogner, down to Vika, down to the port.
    Then they chose locations. There was a synagogue, but no sign of Sheldon. There was an all-day topless bar, but no sign of Sheldon. There were bookstores, but no sign of Sheldon.
    Lars suggested they stay overnight in town. Someplace nice. Someplace expensive. Perhaps the Grand Hotel? But the Grand Hotel had no rooms, so they stayed nearby at the Continental.
    Lars slept deeply. He was exhausted.
    Rhea stared into the ceiling, her life playing backwards and forwards.
    The breakfast in the Hotel Continental this morning is good, but Rhea is not hungry. She dips her finger into the hot tea and places it on the edge of the water glass. Holding the base with her other hand, she circles the ring until a low tone rises out like the mournful cry of a lost baby whale.
    â€˜If I did that, I’d be in trouble,’ says Lars.
    â€˜I’m sorry.’
    â€˜How did you sleep?’ he asks.
    â€˜I’d rather be at home.’
    â€˜No you wouldn’t.’
    â€˜How are we going to go back there? Knowing a woman was murdered in our apartment? How long can we live at a hotel?’
    â€˜There are people with worse problems than us.’
    â€˜That’s true. And it would be rude if they were here right now, but they aren’t, so let’s talk about us.’
    Lars smiles and, for the first time since checking in, Rhea smiles, too.
    â€˜You sound like your grandfather sometimes. Mostly when he isn’t around.’
    â€˜He raised me.’
    â€˜You’re worried about him?’
    â€˜I’m too shocked to be worried.’
    â€˜We don’t have to stay in the hotel. We’ll go to the summer house. We’ll stay there. I can get time off from work.’
    â€˜I don’t have anything with me but a toothbrush.’
    â€˜We have some things there. We can get what we need before we leave.’
    â€˜Are we allowed to leave?’
    â€˜I’ll call Sigrid ØdegÃ¥rd and let her know where we’re going. Unless they want to pay the hotel bills.’
    â€˜It’s in the paper this morning, you know. I saw a photo of the building on the front page.’
    Lars is drinking black coffee and eating toast with an egg. He is wearing a white, short-sleeved dress shirt untucked over fashionable jeans and leather shoes.
    â€˜How can you eat?’ she asks.
    â€˜It’s breakfast.’
    â€˜All this doesn’t invade you somehow? Disrupt everything? Hollow